Page 5 of Lusting for the Duke's Kiss
“Such as?” asked her mother with wide eyes.
Her father sighed deeply. “Who knows, wife? He might be hiding any number of things. Perhaps he is a degenerate gambler or drinker. Perhaps he needed a large sum of money for dark purposes. Itispossible.”
Hetty felt her heart thump painfully in her chest. She had never considered such things, but then, why would she? Frank Blackmore had appeared to be a perfectly respectable gentleman. And she was a young lady, who was sheltered from the seedy parts of life that her father had just spoken of. She had read her share of Gothic novels but believed that it could not be true, that people in real life could be so degenerate.
She had been sheltered and cossetted, but that was expected, for a young lady of her class. It was not unusual, in the least. It might have continued that way for the rest of her life if this had not happened to her.
She almost wished that it was true. That he was a degenerate, in some manner, and it would dissolve this kernel of doubt that this was somehow her fault. That if she had just been more charming, more beautiful, or more gifted, he would not have done this to her. He would not have rejected her in such a brutal manner. He would not have made her a laughingstock, an object of pity, in this appalling way.
She repeated the vow to herself. This would never happen to her again. No man wouldeverget the chance to humiliate her like this in the future.
***
The next day, she climbed into the carriage, settling herself beside her mother. Her trunks, containing all of her personal items, had been tied to it half an hour ago. She was ready, at last, to leave it all behind.
She gazed out at the townhouse, with a yearning, heavy heart. She knew that she would never see it again, or if she did, only as she passed by. She tried to imagine herself passing it at some future point, and how she would feel. Would she have to avert her eyes, the pain still as strong as it was, now? Or would the passage of time healher fully, and she would be able to gaze upon it without a flicker of emotion?
Her eyes stung with tears as she stared at it. A two-storey sandstone house, with long windows. A high wrought-iron fence. A manicured front garden, with a line of rose bushes flanking the path towards the front door. Her new home that had been snatched from her before she had even had a chance to become familiar with it.
She heard the crack of the coachman’s whip, and they were away, the wheels slowly turning. Resolutely, she turned to the front, not looking back.
It had only been a few days ago that she had been a blushing bride, tripping down the aisle in her ivory wedding dress, a train of gossamer trailing behind her. Frank had stood at the altar, gazing at her approvingly as she had made her way slowly towards him. She had never imagined, in her wildest dreams, what was about to happen. How the dream was about to come crashing down around her.
She was still Mrs Frank Blackmore, but in name only. How could she claim to be a married lady? Because she had exchanged vows and signed a piece of paper? Frank had not even lain with her on their wedding night. She was still a maiden, as innocent as ever. In all respects, she was still Miss Henrietta Arnold. But the world did not see her that way any longer.
As the carriage turned the corner, heading out of Derrington, shecontemplated what lay ahead of her. Back to her old life, as a dependent in her parents’ home, withering away, year by year. She suddenly knew that she could not endure it, but equally, what alternative was there?
Shewasa married woman. Divorce was out of the question. She could never marry again. She had entered a strange nether world, where she was neither married nor single. What was to become of her?
She bit her lip so hard that she almost drew blood. She must secure her future, in some way. She just had to think it through as to how that was going to be possible.
There were so few options open to women. If she were a man, she could take off, seek her fortune somewhere else, leave the past behind her. But that was not possible for a lady of her class. She was bound as surely as if she were a bird in a gilded cage.
Chapter 3
Hetty wandered down the garden path, staring at the familiar rolling green fields, in the distance. Hillsworth House was nestled in a valley. When she was a girl, she had happily explored those fields, without a care in the world.
Della, the family cocker spaniel, trailed at her feet, gazing up at her adoringly. She smiled, reaching down to caress the dog’s silky golden ears.
“What do you think,” she whispered. “Shall we go further afield today? Shall we go to the apple tree?”
The dog yelped excitedly as if she understood every word that the woman had just said. Hetty laughed, suddenly feeling her spirits lift, just a little. It would be good to go for a longer walk; she would not feel so constrained by the atmosphere in the house. Her mother’s eyes constantly watching her, anxiously, as she moved about. Her father, trying to jolly her out of her low spirits. It was becoming just a little tedious.
She opened the gate, stepping beyond the boundary, her heart lifting further at the beauty of the day. A bright summer’s day, with a clear blue sky and a sun so bright that she had to squint slightly as she walked, shielding her face with her hand. Della ran ahead, as excited as she was, to be let loose.
It had been three weeks since she had returned to Hillsworth House. Three weeks, in which she had thought constantly, almost obsessively, about what her future held. And now, a plan was forming in her mind. A plan that would protect her from ever being hurt in the way that Frank Blackmore had hurt her.
It was only last night that the epiphany had come to her, as she had been kneeling at the foot of her bed, saying her nightly prayers. It was as if God himself had reached down, placing a hand upon her forehead, and whispered it into her ear.
You could become a nun,that voice had whispered.You could join a convent. You would never have to deal with the world and all its pain and misery again.
She thought about it as she strode through the field towards the large apple tree in the distance. It was perfect, the perfect solution to the conundrum that she found herself in. If she joined an order and took the vows to become a nun, then she would have her own life, free of being dependent on her parents.
She could never marry again. That path had gone. And besides, she didn’twantto marry again. She never wanted to be vulnerable in that way; to be at the mercy of a man. Even if she was free to do so, she still would not want to do it. The very thought of it was anathema to her.
She reached the apple tree, panting slightly from the exertion. Della started to run in circles around the large trunk, barking ecstatically,almost delirious with the freedom of stretching her legs. Hetty looked up, contemplating the tree. The branches were almost overladen with their fruit, shiny, bright red apples, so large and tempting that she smiled in delight. Carefully, she reached up, picking a perfect specimen. It felt heavy and hot in her hand.
She sat down against the tree, leaning against the trunk as she took the first bite of the fruit. It was juicy and delicious. For several moments, she contentedly chewed, gazing out over the valley and Hillsworth House in the distance. It looked like a giant black square, from this vantage point, spreading out before her eyes.
